


The Time We Have

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Reader request, indruck, sternclay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Two reader requests having to do with time, in one way or another.Stern and Barclay dance.Duck and Indrid take a road trip.





	1. Dance with Me

**Author's Note:**

> A reader requested: Taz ship of your choice: “I don’t know how much time we have left. So dance with me.” 
> 
> I decided to set this during the mimic arc.

Barclays “Gloomy Night Mix” crackles from the old C.D player in the kitchen. 

He doesn’t really need to be here this late, organizing and reorganizing the cabinets. But he can’t sleep. He can’t stop thinking about the abomination, about what the others have told him.

This one feels different. Angrier, more personal somehow. Like it won't stop until they’re all dead or at each others throats.

The door swings open and he holds his breath. 

“Thought I might find you here.” Agent Stern (“please, call me Joseph, we’re friends for Pete's sake”) lets the door fall shut. He’s still in his slacks, though he has a sweater tossed over his work-shirt, the white lettering on the front reading “Roswell, NM.”

“Something you need?” He sets the spice jars he’s holding down.

“I’ve been up late, studying the details of that attack on the Little Dipper.”

Oh no, oh _no_ he’s going to ask him about it, about whether he knows anything.

“And I’m afraid I sort of...freaked myself out. So I went looking for you in hopes of having someone to talk to. Just to distract me for a bit from the rather gruesome police photos.”

“Oh, uh, sure. You mind if I keep cleaning while we talk?”

“Not at all.” Stern settles onto a stool, gaze staying on Barclay no matter where in the room he goes. Usually that much attention makes him jumpy. But not when it’s coming from Stern, not anymore. Now he just hopes the attention means what he desperately wants it to mean.

“I’m not usually so bothered by crime scene photos. It’s just, something about this attack, it feels like it’s the prelude to something far worse.”

“I know what you mean.” He bites his tongue before he says more, before he tells Stern everything, before he either begs him to get out before it’s too late or to help them stop this thing before it gets worse. 

“Are you afraid?” The question is barely audible over the music. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Ever since the attack and the hornets coming here, you’ve seemed jumpier than normal.” Stern stands, but otherwise stays where he is. 

Barclay thinks for a moment, then sighs, “Yeah, I am. I’m scared that whatever’s out there is smarter than we think it is. I’m scared that it’ll hurt someone here at the lodge, that it could get Mama, or Jake, or Aubrey, or any of them. I’m scared that the hornets might hurt someone while they’re trying to stop it. I’m scared-”

He turns to look at Stern again and it all happens at once. His mind processes the way Stern is regarding him, worry plain on that handsome face. And then it offers up image after image: the first time Stern had peeked into the kitchen, asking if he could trouble Barclay for some half and half, the first time Stern had laughed at one of his jokes, blue eyes flashing in delight, the quirk of his lips whenever he makes a bad pun, the little ways he’s fussed over Barclay and tried to care for him these last few months. 

“-I’m scared it might hurt you.”

The worry on Sterns face softens into affection as he crosses to stand in front of Barclay.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, alright? I’m one of the few people here who’s trained to handle this stuff. Please don’t add more stress for yourself by trying to look out for me.” His hands come up, start fixing the collar of Barclays plaid shirt. 

“But-”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.” Stern smiles up at him, “I truly do.” His hands are still resting on Barclays shoulders.

Fear and affection are fighting in Barclays throat, choking him up when he tries to speak.

“Oh, Barclay” Stern sees the conflict on his face, moves his hands up to his cheeks, stroking them comfortingly, “Whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Dance with me.” It slips out past the jumble of emotions.

“What?”

“We, there’s, there are so many things I need you to know, so many things I want to tell, so many things I want to do but I, I can’t, I don’t” he tamps down the deluge of words, takes a deep breath, “I don’t know how much time we have left. So please, dance with me?”

Wordlessly, Stern drops his hands from Barclays face. 

Then one circles around, coming to rest on his lower back, while he holds the other out in the air, palm up. 

Barclay takes the offered hand, places his other one on Sterns shoulder. Let’s the agent guide them slowly in time with the song coming through the dust-covered speakers. They press closer together with each note. 

_I'll be so alone without you  
Maybe you'll be lonesome too---and blue  
Fly the ocean in a silver plane  
Watch the jungle when it's wet with rain  
Just remember till you're home again  
You belong to me_

Sterns eyes meet his as the song comes to an end. 

“Joseph?”

A smile he’s never seen before.

“Yes?”

He dips down the short distance to kiss him, sharp intake of breath hitting his lips when he does. Then Sterns arms are around him, holding him tight as the other man kisses back, delighted and ferocious. On a whim, Barclay reaches down, grabbing Sterns thighs and hoisting him up. The agent breaks the kiss with yelping laugh, throwing his legs around Barclays waist as the cook carries him to the nearest counter, kissing him once more.

When he sets him down on it, Stern rests his head on his chest with, laugh still echoing out of him. 

“Good _lord_, I had no idea you were that strong.” 

“One of Kepler’s best kept secrets.” He teases, kissing the top of Sterns head. 

“Any other, um, secrets” he runs his fingers up Barclays chest, “you care to show me tonight.”

He wants to. Sweet Sylvain does he want to. But he’s dead on his feet, and Stern is well on his way to joining him. 

“Not tonight, babe. It’s nearly tomorrow, and we both need to sleep. But…” He runs his fingers through Sterns hair, nearly loses his remaining control when Sterns eyes flutter shut with a little moan “tomorrow night, how about you come to my room? Can show you some more of my, uh, talents. And we can talk about this and a few other things.”

“It’s a date.”

They walk hand in hand to the door, kissing once more before stepping through it and heading their separate ways. As we walks, feeling hopeful for the first time, Barclay wonders if there's still time to catch Saturday Night Dead.


	2. Grow Old With Me (Indruck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reader requested: Can you write 20+ years in the future old indruck please

Indrid Cold opens the door of his Winnebago, one winter day in Kepler.

And all his futures reset. 

\--------------------

Indrid Cold opens the door of his Winnebago, the desert air already warm even though the sun is newly risen. That’s fine by him. It will still take until the midday heat before he’s able to shuck his “I Saw Mothman at the Cryptonomica” sweatshirt. This will earn him concerned stares from the other tourists in their shorts and tank tops and the waitresses in their unfairly heat-trapping polos.

But not Duck. 

Duck will simply smile, maybe make a joke about not knowing there was a gun show in town, and Indrid will laugh.

He doesn’t need foresight to know this. Just like he can’t remember the first time Duck made that joke, can’t remember if he flirted back by saying Duck was one to talk with the way his arms had beefed up from training with Leo and Minerva. 

A small lizard skitters away from the picnic table when he sits down, looking out towards the horizon. The reptile stretches out on a nearby rock in the sun.

“Wise idea.” Indrid raises his enamel mug, full of marshmallows, hot cocoa mix, and the barest hint of coffee. Around him, the other summer travelers are shuffling about their campsites, murmuring debates about which trail to take, how soon to hit the road. He flicks through the futures, but finds nothing requiring his immediate attention. 

“Mornin, handsome.” 

He turns to find Duck leaning in the door of the Winnebago in a plaid bathrobe. His dark hair, streaked with grey, is mussed from bed. 

“Morning love, didn’t see you there.”

“Just enjoyin the view.” Duck grins at him, the crooked smile as charming as it was the day they met. 

“I’m gonna start breakfast, then figured we’d get on the road. Wanna eat out here?”

“Please. Oh, wait.” He hops off the table, makes his way across the sand to the door so he can kiss his husband good morning, pulls back with a smile, “have to start the day off right.”

“Thanks, darlin. You need a top off?”

Indrid looks at his mug, now only half full of mini-marshmallows.

“Yes, please.”

Duck smiles indulgently, takes the cup, and heads inside.

\----------------------------------------

Duck’s still a little surprised that Indrid agreed to this trip. He knows enough to understand that Indrid has more than a few places in the country that he associates with disasters he couldn’t stop. He’d planned their route so that they steered clear of any of the locations Indrid's actively told him he wants to avoid, but even with that he wasn’t sure his husband would want to roadtrip to as many national parks as they could. 

But when Duck had raised the idea, Indrid bounced delightedly in his chair at the kitchen table. Duck came home from work the next day to find Indrid seated in a sea of travel books and magazines.

It’d been his last month of full-time work at the forest. Juno retired a year earlier, but Duck found that the combination of his chosen powers and his god-given stubbornness meant he didn’t feel the need to leave the position entirely. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he’d switch to part-time work, and take a month off using vacation time. 

They’re halfway through the month, but it feels as though he and Indrid have been gone from Kepler for far longer, the days passing in a blissfully lazy haze. These past two days at the grand canyon may as well have been two weeks.

Time is weird that way. Because conversely, it feels like one minute he was 42 and facing down the end of the world. Then, in the blink of an eye, was 62 and cleaning dishes in the sink of a Winnebago that’s held together by luck, duct tape, and more than a few enchantments. 

He glances towards the front of the trailer, where Indrid is studying a guidebook and plugging an address into the GPS they bought specifically for this trip. His glasses are tilted up on his head, eyes glowing faintly red even in his human form.

Duck can tell he’s adjusted that form again; he’s added crows feet at the corner of his eyes. Last time, he made his hair just a hint grayer. His face is still a strange mix of aged and ageless and for that Duck is grateful, as he adores the way Indrid looked (and looks). But he gets a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he notices Indrid making a show (even if it's a small one) of growing old with him.

Of course, when he’s in his Sylph form, he doesn't need an enchantment to show his age.

_“You’re goin grey.” Duck strokes the fluff of his stomach as they lay in bed (or, rather Indrid lays in bed and Duck lays on Indrid). _

_Indrid sits up slightly, looks at his chest._

_“Huh, so I am. I suppose it’s about time. Do you mind?”_

_“Not one fuckin bit. Makes you kinda distinguished. A big ol’ distinguished ball of fluff.”_

_“Hey!” He licks Ducks cheek playfully, chirring in amusement, then stretches out a wing “Looks like I’m getting my tertiary wingspots in as well.”_

_“Just makin you all the finer to look at.”_

He finishes they dishes just as Indrid finishes his battle with the GPS.

“Shall we head for New Mexico?”

“Yep.” Duck settles in the front seat, buckling in, “let’s roll, darlin.”

\------------------------------------

The stars are unobstructed this far out from civilization, dazzling in their pockets of darkness. It’s funny, once Indrid would look up at them and wonder where home was, if he was looking towards or away from it on any given night.

Now he knows home is beside him, laying on the picnic table to better stargaze.

“Heard from Aubrey this afternoon.” 

“Oh?” 

“She, Dani, and Kelly all enjoyed the postcard. And Taco ain’t eaten anythin he wasn’t supposed to.”

“I swear, how did we adopt a cat so adept at getting into trouble?’

“Cause he takes after the two of us.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.” Indrid grins up at the sky.

“I know this, and I love you.” Duck responds, giggling at the long-dead meme. 

“I love you too.” He rests his head on Ducks shoulder as they lay there.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”

_How remarkable fate is_

_How in the vast expanse of time and space, we found each other_

_How, if forced to choose, I’d trade a century of my life for one more day with you_

“You.”

“Sap.” Duck elbows him, kisses his nose as he sits up.

“I’m gonna hit the hay. You comin?”

“In a minute.” 

Duck pats his bony knee, hops off the table. 

The dirt crunches, the door of the trailer opens and closes. 

Out of habit more than anything else, Indrid flicks a few moments ahead to make sure nothing bad is about to happen to Duck. There’s nothing to worry about; no rogue meteors, no monsters, not even a paper cut. Just Duck, sitting in bed and reading the way he always does when he’s waiting for Indrid to join him. Duck smiling as Indrid steps into the little bedroom, Duck flipping back the covers to make room for him the same as always. 

Indrid Cold gets off of the picnic table, towards the mundane, cozy, perfect scene he knows is coming. He smiles, as he has every night for the past twenty years, knowing who is waiting for him inside. 

He opens the door.


End file.
